


Take Me Anywhere

by Val_Creative



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anxious Katsuki Yuuri, Canon Gay Relationship, Canon LGBTQ Male Character, Confident Katsuki Yuuri, Dogs, Domestic Bliss, Eros Katsuki Yuuri, Established Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov, Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Makkachin Lives (Yuri!!! on Ice), Mild Smut, Post-Canon, Romance, Supportive Victor Nikiforov, Travel, Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:23:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27720665
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Val_Creative/pseuds/Val_Creative
Summary: There's places in the world where Yuuri doesn't feel like he's suffocating. This one happens to be with his fiance.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Comments: 19
Kudos: 93





	Take Me Anywhere

**Author's Note:**

  * For [asario](https://archiveofourown.org/users/asario/gifts).



> Hope everyone likes this! ✨💖 Any thoughts/comments welcomed! I've missed these boys! I've missed this show! ✨💖💖

*

There's places in the world where Yuuri doesn't feel like he's suffocating.

Right here with Viktor is nice enough — hundreds of miles in the air, flying between Greece and Turkey in the middle of the night, where Yuuri can rest upright in one of the first-class cushioned seats and tune out to Minami's newest podcast. It's nothing but the dulled rumbling of the plane's engines and Viktor's head lolling comfortably, sleepily onto Yuuri's shoulder.

He's not worried about Makkachin fast asleep with the other caged pets at the rear. She's very well-behaved.

Viktor, on the other hand, eagerly introduced himself to the row ahead of them and babbled on about getting engaged to Yuuri, and how he and Yuuri met including how Yuuri was drunk on champagne and pole-dancing with Christophe Giacometti.

Yuuri sank down, hearing the polite laughter, covering his entire reddened face with his hands and skewing his glasses. 

As soon as the other first-class passengers realized it was Viktor Nikiforov speaking — the _world famous_ figure skater, coach and choreographer — they also eagerly began listening in, requesting selfies and autographs. That had been a few hours ago. 

Yuuri removes an earphone, catching the overhead announcement in English.

"We're gonna land soon, Viktor," he whispers, nudging his fiance softly with his elbow and clasping over Viktor's forearm.

Viktor groans a little. He doesn't lift his head, opening his bluish green eyes and gazing at Yuuri.

Another silent moment passes.

Yuuri notices Viktor's lower lip jutting in a slight pout.

"Right," Yuuri says suddenly in understanding, leaning and dropping a gentle kiss against Viktor's mouth.

Viktor always wants a kiss after waking up no matter where they are. He nearly forgot. 

An overly satisfied hum leaves Viktor. He affectionately nuzzles Yuuri, hooking his arms to Yuuri's waist. It helps that they left the armrest raised and stowed between the seats instead of lowered. An unnecessary obstacle, or so Viktor deems it.

" _Yuuuuri~_! I had the most wonderful dream! We were picking strawberries in Versailles and swimming naked in the lake…"

He flushes and looks around, but everyone else isn't paying attention or they're fast asleep.

"Not here," Yuuri scolds him a little, but can't help his lips twitching up as Viktor steals another kiss, warm and wet. Viktor yawns, stretching his arms over his head, crooking them to avoid hitting the plane's ceiling. A slip of Viktor's abdomen exposes where his burgundy V-neck lifts.

It's definitely not where Yuuri's eyes land.

Definitely.

*

At dawn, Esenboğa Airport doesn't seem crowded.

Yuuri texts his mom and dad as soon as they're heading for the baggage claim. He texts a few others as well. 

Phichit and Yuuko respond after Yurio does, and he's the one who sends a middle finger emoji. Nothing else.

Yuuri promptly gets an apology from Otabek on Otabek's number. He's apparently staying in Russia and in Yurio's apartment for a visit, explaining that Yurio is still feeling queasy while recovering from the flu. Even in texts, Otabek's so solemn and serious.

"I've got Makkachin!" Viktor proclaims, throwing up his hands excitedly while clutching the dog leash. 

Makkachin boofs, wagging her tail and hindquarters in a similar excitement.

Yuuri approaches them. "You've been a very good girl waiting," he whispers to Makkachin, scratching under her chin. "Viktor," Yuuri adds, looking up and frowning thoughtfully, "Help me find our luggage. I think we got turned around by the restrooms."

"In a minute, Yuuri," Viktor says in a pleasant, but dismissive manner. "Let's take some photos before we go! It'll be fun!"

"… Now?" Yuuri asks.

He's tugged by his sleeve and lurched sideways.

The confusion mellows as Viktor poses handsomely by the broken-down escalators. He props his foot up on the hand-railing, crooking his leg open, spanning his fingers lightly over the side of his face. His other arm hangs casually at his side. 

Yuuri angles his camera-phone while kneeling in front of him, making it look like Viktor is towering over.

They get another of Viktor lying against the glass barrier, looking away dramatically from the camera. Viktor insists on a photo of Yuuri on the escalator-steps, reclining and staring down the camera with his Eros face, his thighs spread with a hand propped there.

Viktor wiggles in delight, admiring how the neon blue and candy-pink lights silhouettes Yuuri's features.

Out of the bystanders, Viktor questions one if they'll take a photo of Viktor and Yuuri _together_.

They pose on the escalator again, with a stranger perched on the highest step, and them looking up coyly to Viktor's phone. Viktor lies out on his stomach, his arms curled under his neck, and Yuuri goes on his back with his hands resting above his head.

For a moment — _sixteen minutes worth of a moment_ — Yuuri doesn't worry about the baggage claim.

*

It's a long drive through Ankara, the capital of Turkey.

Most of central Anatolia has mountains and dry plains, with the Kızılırmak and Sakarya River systems, the Sarıyar reservoir and a great deal of natural lakes and pools where the agriculture does well. Işık Mountain gleams in the northern distance. 

Yuuri can feel the low, simmering heat building on his nape.

They decide on touring the landmarks in the capital city surrounded in Roman and Ottoman architecture.

It's so much to see in so little time — the Column of Julianus, located in the Ulus district, erected in honor of the Roman emperor Julianus the Apostate's voyage to Ancyra in 362 AD — the Temple of Augustus and Rome located in the Altındağ district, left to a pile of ruins in the modern age — the Hacı Bayram Veli Mosque, dimming with amber-gold lanterns — Çıkrıkçılar Yokuşu, or Weavers' Road, where Viktor bargains for a hand-woven carpet in the marketplace full of leather-made jewelry and traditional fabric and copper shining antiquities.

After an hour or two, they share a meal at L'avare, nibbling on risotto with saffron and homemade octopus antipasti cooked in ginger and lemons. Viktor sneaks a plate of grilled chicken without mushrooms to an eager Makkachin devouring it in seconds.

The top-down vintage convertible Viktor rents has an interior of light grey quill ostrich upholstery for seats and door panels, piped in dark blue. Beautiful wood accents and a jewel-like polish on the dashboard. Its carpets a dark blue. Same as the trunk lining and matching fitted luggage.

Yuuri skims the details on the Rare 1936 Delahaye 135 Competition, tucking them away.

On the way to Cer Modern, the hub of modern-arts museums, Viktor re-grasps Yuuri's hand. He pulls it close, kissing Yuuri's wrist and knuckles. Viktor's lips press devoutly to his thumb. The wind-thick air smells hot. Dried spice. Oils. Fragrant roses.

Yuuri doesn't say anything, eyeing him in the driver's seat and grinning.

*

Something unusual happens.

In an alley, Yuuri discovers a puppy. 

He's friendly and licks Yuuri's fingers, sniffing Viktor, sniffing the ground and sniffing Makkachin who happily bounds after him.

There's no tags.

He could be a stray, but it's unlikely.

Yuuri wonders if the owner misses him, or if they left him _on purpose_ outside the Turkish State Opera and Ballet.

Viktor hoists the puppy into his arms, hugging him, fretting over him. 

Even with the baby-talk coming out of his fiance, Yuuri senses the righteous anger in Viktor.

A local veterinarian eases their mind, discovering no illness or fleas or ticks. No chip either. He's a little black poodle, and now Viktor has got it in his head to take him home. Yuuri thought he would protest more, but he finds himself agreeing with Viktor.

The puppy chose them. It wouldn't be right to leave him.

On Saturday morning, there's a flight for Vienna. They will take it back to Saint Petersburg and start training their newest family member. Viktor arranges for the paperwork needed and for the puppy shots. Everything will work out, Yuuri supposes. Hopefully.

*

High above, multitudes of hot-air balloons hover into the sky. Dots of bright, striped color.

They've ended up outside of Cappadocia where a festival booms. Voices cheer, but too muffled to pinpoint. They're far away. Yuuri savors the constant rocking of the boat. A long rowboat cushioned with white hotel pillows and comforters they squeezed into.

"Vitya?"

Yuuri's voice drifts in. He rests his chest onto Viktor, watching those bluish green eyes flutter.

"Hm?"

"Thank you for… doing all of this with me," Yuuri mumbles. "I know it's been hard…"

When it comes to talking about his anxiety, he never knows how to talk about it at all. What it feels like. How suffocating it is. Viktor can't magically cure Yuuri's anxiety — _nothing_ can ever do that — but he has eased it by Viktor helping Yuuri. Sometimes it works.

Reddish-cream sunlight fades into Viktor's hair. 

"Anything you could ever want from me, Yuuri… it's yours."

They haven't gotten up from the nest of comforters lining the rowboat. Yuuri doesn't plan on it.

He sighs quietly, leaning further onto Viktor below him. A flush of warmth curls in Yuuri's belly when one of Viktor's hands pushes under his sweater. His fingers trace the ridges of Yuuri's spine. Memorizing him, worshiping him and every bare millimeter of flesh Viktor can access.

_"How about…?"_

Yuuri notices he's trailed off, but doesn't regret the insinuation when Viktor's face brightens with a smile and quirked eyebrow. Both of Viktor's hands dive deeper into Yuuri's shirt, palming up. As if Viktor basks in the other man's needful quiver.

"… Now?" Viktor repeats Yuuri's earlier question slyly. A giggle.

Yuuri echos a fainter giggle against the sweet, heady pressure of Viktor's mouth. He needs more. He needs more of Viktor while the kiss opens, and Viktor's tongue drags in Yuuri's mouth. Their hips grind a little. Yuuri's heart pounds against Viktor's chest. 

Viktor says nothing about Yuuri getting flustered, encouraging him to kiss harder, trailing a hand down to cup Yuuri's ass.

At the sensation of a pinch, Yuuri groans. He can nearly feel the outline of Viktor's cock through his finely tailored pants. Yuuri digs his hands into Viktor's silvery hair, groaning again into Viktor's neck and at the mercy of Viktor's fingers roaming him.

That's when they hear Makkachin boof.

She sits up on her own pillow-cushion, watching as the new puppy teeters and falls into Lake Mogan.

Normally, she would never jump into the water unless prompted by Viktor. Makkachin is so, so well-behaved.

But as soon as the puppy leaps after a fish, Makkachin jumps in after him to rescue him. The force of her jump rocks everyone. And that's when, _well_ , Yuuri feels the world upend itself. The cool water slaps him. He goes under, kicking to the surface within a couple of seconds.

Viktor reappears, coughing Yuuri's name. They grip each other, wiping off their faces and laughing shakily.

Makkachin paddles over to them, her little brother securely and safely in her jaws.

"Good girl," Yuuri murmurs, letting Viktor flip the rowboat. He nuzzles the overexcited, wet puppy to his throat, hearing him yip.

It's not worth worrying about.

Not now.

Not with Viktor.

*


End file.
